William Nevins, part 4: A Time to Weep (1832-1835)
It has been said of the cholera that it begins where other diseases end—with death. (William Nevins, 1834).
Cholera comes to Paris in the 19th century.
We find ourselves in a world turned upside down by Covid. “We thought we were past the days of worldwide illnesses,” many have thought. “We thought that if we could just find cures for cancer and heart disease, we could live a life without care.” Modern medicine and technological advancements are wonderful gifts from God, but they were never given to be replacements for God. To live during these past two years has been (in a small way) to enter the uncertainty and instability of our ancestors’ world. Yellow fever, malaria, smallpox, cholera. These were just some of the dreaded diseases that struck with little warning and often without remedy.
Cholera is a wretched disease that still affects millions today. It is caused by a bacterial infection of the lower intestine and can kill in as little as a day. Gallons of fluid can quickly be lost from the body, which can cause muscle cramps and shriveled (sometimes even bluish) skin. It is not as quickly contagious as some other diseases, but in the 1800s no one knew what caused it, so it functioned like a serial killer—once it was identified in a local area it seemed to strike without warning and left citizens in perpetual fear.
Cholera came to Baltimore in 1832 and its impact was soon felt by Nevins. Should he risk his life if ministry required it? On August 28, he wrote, “I had been afraid that if I was asked to visit someone with this disease, I would be appalled at the idea; but when the summons actually came, I was enabled to obey it without the smallest hesitation or trembling. I also determined immediately that I would agree to every similar call in the future. And God has helped to me to do so. God gives his servants grace right when they need it; not in anticipation of their need. God gives his servants grace just when they need it; not in anticipation of their need. . . .I am persuaded there is nothing which the grace of God cannot do for me.”
Maryland Gazette, September 20, 1832. Similar notices were found throughout areas impacted by cholera.
Nevins himself was spared from the cholera, but on September 26, 1833 he was afflicted with an illness and severe fever. This fever and its symptoms would affect him for over 2 months and bring him “closer to the grave than ever before.” He would partially recover from this fever, but the presence of cholera and his own brush with death stirred a recurring theme in his journal entries. He would increasingly reflect on death and how he felt unwilling and unprepared to die.
I have within me a dread of disease and death, such as I was not prone to before the pestilence came, and which is very unbecoming for a Christian. Oh to be delivered from it. Oh for that love which casts out fear. —August 17, 1833
For the rest of the year and well into 1834 his health was not fully restored. This led him on various trips in an effort to restore his vitality. These trips took him away from his church and his wife and children; they also did little to help. Several times during his absence he received letters of encouragement from his people. They assured him of their prayers for him, and he was grateful for them—
It gives me much satisfaction to hear that I am the subject of so many prayers, and yet it alarms me to think that so many have been praying for me for so long, and yet there has been so little spiritual improvement in myself. —letter from New York, April 23, 1834
Health is a precious blessing, but it is not the blessing of greatest price. Holiness is the inestimable pearl. —letter from New York, June 21, 1834
His health did see a measure of improvement in the summer and early fall of 1834. He finally returned home to Baltimore on September 3. A week later he reflected on God’s kindness— “Thanks to the Lord. He disappoints all my fears. He realizes all my hopes. How highly favored are we: —our city healthy, our family well, and I improving.” Throughout September and October he saw continued improvement, and on October 21 he wrote, “Through mercy I am nearly well. Oh that my soul were in higher health and prosperity!” After a year of disrupted health and ministry, things were looking up.
But November was a far different story. Mary was attacked with cholera on a Friday night and died the next day.
Sometimes we think that our ancestors were stoics without emotions or that love is a modern phenomenon. The words that Nevins wrote in his journal in the days after Mary’s death tell a different story. (There is such rich content here that a later blog post will be devoted to this time in his life.) Consider these brief excerpts—
Last night, at a quarter before twelve o’clock, the desire of my eyes, my beloved wife was taken from me to God. (November 9)
I bless his name, that I have been kept from murmuring and complaining. Though my heart has bled, it has not rebelled. (November 9)
Today the separation is complete. The precious body which retained its sweet appearance and freedom from decay until the end, has been laid where it will remain until the resurrection morning, and I have come home to my desolate house. The light and charm of it is gone for ever from it. (November 10)
The thought that she should die by this new form of death troubles me. But some of the sweetest Christians and holiest servants of God have died of it. (November 10)
Twelve years ago today, we were married. How different a day was that from this! But God can make even this brighter than that. I trust my dear wife is happier today than she was this day twelve years [ago]. And why should I not be happier in God today than I was in her that day? I wonder if she remembers this anniversary. (November 13)
William staggered under this unexpected trial. The peak of the epidemic had passed, yet it had reached out for one more victim as it went. Though she was spared the typical agonies of the disease, she was gone nonetheless. As he sank into deep waters, he was kept from despair when his feet found solid ground—
I believe that God is to be praised for all he does, and not merely for a part; when he denies, as well as when he bestows; when he takes away, just as much as when he gives; for what he takes away, he had given in the first place, and the benevolence which led him to give it, would have prompted him to continue it, if there hadn’t been some good reason for withdrawing it. I believe that God has removed my dear wife from me; that it was his will the separation should take place now; and I believe I should be entirely submissive, and that in so far as I am not, I grievously sin.
In spite of the heaviness that had been 1834, the year was not quite over. On December 18, a week before Christmas, he found the need to write another letter. This was in reference to his mother-in-law, a widow, who had been living with them. “This afternoon at four o’clock, she joined Mary in the circle around the throne.” Her death was as unexpected as Mary’s, and now there were two empty places at the table. “Just forty days after my dear Mary left me, her mother followed. Two deaths in this house within six weeks! What a new state of things! I have seen not only the daughter but the mother die. I have heard the death groans of her that bore and nursed my Mary. It was enough for me that she was the mother of my all. She did not die so easy as my dear one did; but I confidently believe that she has gone, through grace, to glory. They have met in heaven. I must have done with earth, and look away toward heaven.”
He and Mary would not long be separated. His health continued to do poorly as the new year came around. He was incapable of performing his pastoral duties and spent months traversing the country in search of relief and separated from his motherless children. New York, Philadelphia, Norfolk, even the Virgin Islands—in none of them did he find the relief he hoped for. He was not idle in this year but traded pulpit for pen. He had long wished to write, but feared it would be self-promoting. Now he had no choice. But this time of sickness was a blessing to the larger church. No longer confined to Baltimore, Nevins had a much larger audience. His pastoral counsel and admonition was passed around the country in books and tracts and even today has the ability to change the lives of any who read his writings.
By the summer of 1835 he sensed his time was short. He hurried to return to Baltimore and his children, fearing if he did not get there soon he might never reach there alive. He arrived home in late summer but by then it was simply a wait for the inevitable. One of his last acts, when he was too ill to attend the Mission Board meeting at First Presbyterian, was to send $100 by way of a friend to contribute to the work. He asked if his friend could give the board the message that “the nearer I get to heaven, the dearer is the cause of missions to my heart.”
The one who had been shaken by death and dying when the pestilence arrived was now facing death with confidence. Just like he had said, God’s grace was there when it was needed, and not before. Near the close of the day on September 14, he said, “Death—death, now, COME LORD JESUS—dear Savior.”
A brief biographical sketch recorded after his death ends with the following words— “It is confidently believed that ‘he fell right into the arms of Jesus,’ in whom he sleeps until the morning of the resurrection.”
